Her King, His Picture Girl
by Miss Kisharoo
Summary: "...But Colin wasn't listening. He was staring at the picture as it slid from the slot and, slowly but surely, lightened. The first thing that he saw was her freckles. And then her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, the color of chocolate and caramel. He knew now. Ginny's heart was warm, as warm as Harry's was. Maybe even warmer." / Round 3 Entry (Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition)


_**Quidditch League Competition - Round 3 Entry**_

* * *

******Story Title:** Her King, His Picture Girl

**Author: **Miss Kisharoo (Kishy)

**Team: **Wigtown Wanderers

**Position: **Captain

**Fic's Word Count: **1,991 words (give or take)

**Pairing: **Colin Creevey/Ginny Weasley (Please tell me _why_ this is a rare pairing. I still can't figure it out, myself.)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.

* * *

_Flash! Flash!_

Colin Creevey had always loved the way that his camera flashed whenever he took a picture. It flashed audibly and loudly and, to him, happily. Flash after flash, picture after picture, his camera had always sounded happy as long as he, himself, was happy.

It was much like a mother, he'd thought. A mother, or more specifically a good mother, was happy as long as her babies were happy, and that was the sweetest thing of all. So, in an essence, his camera was his family when he was _away_ from his family.

A picture could tell so many things by being just what it was — exactly what it was. A picture. A part of time that was beautifully frozen, pristine and clear and telling everything with only one glance.

One glance had always been what he'd needed — _all_ he'd needed — to gauge what was occurring at that particular moment. It was different when people were moving and talking and putting on emotional masks. But with a picture, every mask came crumbling down. It was like the bright light had the properties of a strong spell, and thus was able to pierce through even the thickest emotional walls and make them crumble. And it took only one second, one flash.

"Why do you like taking pictures?" asked one girl, a frown clear on her coffee-colored face. She, like most girls, wanted to know when a picture was going to be taken of them. They wanted to know so that they could prepare and look cute.

To Colin, this defeated the whole purpose of a picture. It defeated the whole purpose of a snapshot, which, in essence, had the ability to capture a torrent of overflowing emotions. A snapshot had the ability to show the true colors of another and, even if a mean person tried to look at their nicest, the _flash!_ was unsympathetic and absolutely intelligent. In one flash, the walls would crumble, so what was the point?

And so Colin answered, "Because I can know exactly what you're feeling at that moment." Then, slightly, he smiled. "Would you like to see it, Olivia?"

Olivia frowned and turned away. "It's annoying. _You're_ annoying, Creevey."

As quickly as that, she was gone, and yet Colin's smile remained. Deep down, he felt a cold hand go over his heart.

_Flash_!

Colin blinked at the light in his eyes before taking out the picture and looking straight at himself. He looked straight at his smile and his freckles and his unkempt hair… and then he shifted his attention to his eyes.

The flash has broken yet another wall, and it showed that he was sad. Yet another had been crossed off the list, and with a slight falter of his grin, he wondered what he'd done wrong.

But he had his camera, at least, and there was no changing that. His camera would always be there, flashing at him happily. And if it was happy, he was happy.

Wherever Colin went, his camera went, as well, flashing snapshot after snapshot. Making him happy. Being his friend. Being there when no one else was. His camera could light up a room much like some people said his smile could. It only took one flash. One, beautiful flash could make the room brighter like magic.

Magic. He knew that it was there inside of him, coming from _somewhere_. He'd had it inside of himself for a long time, brewing within and helping him to make wonderful pictures.

He'd been right. Mere years later, a letter swept into the house, and everything went into full swing. Colin ended up having to leave everything behind. Everything except for his camera. Not for the first time in his life, he was all alone, but yet, in his mind, he wasn't.

* * *

_Flash! Flash!_

Picture after picture, flash after flash. Everything was snapshotted because Colin just couldn't take in everything at once. So he'd spin around, going from one direction to the next and taking another picture in an attempt to take in everything. It might have annoyed them, but he truthfully didn't see the problem.

"Bad people skills," his grandmother had always concluded, a shrewd expression on her face as a smiling boy looked back at her. Then she'd turn around and ignore him again, only speaking when the flashes became too annoying. So, in a way, it was like he used the flashes to get her attention. And, maybe sometimes, the attention of others, too. And yet he didn't _mean_ to be annoying. He'd never _meant_ to be annoying.

Maybe that was why it hurt so much when the people in his own house and his own year began to frown at him, frowning whenever he took a picture. And yet he'd continue, flashing and flashing, putting on a façade as though he didn't understand, as though he didn't see them. But he did. He saw it so much that, sooner or later, he was taking a picture of himself every day. He was taking a picture of himself as he smiled, his signature expression, and inwardly he saw confusion.

* * *

_Flash! Flash!_

"Creevey, _stop it_!" The scathing voice came from one of the Gryffindor first-years that he'd been taking pictures of. After seeing that they were holding wands and realizing that each of them had different ones, Colin had begun to take pictures. Now he simply blinked and looked at them. "Why don't you do something _productive_ and take pictures of Harry Potter? At least he's a _celebrity_. It would be worth having pictures of _him_."

A wave of assent came from the boys as they nodded, beginning to chatter amongst themselves. Rumors and truths and, even more common, something between the two, spanned from mouth to mouth. Colin, not included in this group, of course, simply continued to stare at them.

"Harry Potter?" he asked, lowering his camera in the slightest. The boys glanced at him. "I've heard of him. He's a hero, right?"

"A hero?" one of the boys asked in disbelief, now completely gawking at Colin. "A _hero_? Do you think that's _all_ he is?"

"Well, I don't know, exactly..."

"Harry Potter is _amazing_. They say that he's the _most amazing person in the world_."

"Why is he so amazing?"

"Because..."

The boys leaned in, and soon Colin's mouth went wide with awe.

* * *

_Flash! Flash!_

Colin stared at himself in the picture, the smile still on his face. This time, he could tell that the smile was real. He could tell that he was really happy.

_I have a friend. I have a _friend_._

"You really did it?!"

Proudly, Colin snapped a quick picture of the Gryffindor boy's surprised expression, then nodded.

"Can... can I see the pictures you took of Harry Potter?"

Colin handed over the pictures, studying them as he did.

Harry Potter was an amazing person, indeed. He was a _hero_. He was everything that Colin had expected, and more. Not only was he nice, but he also had a good heart. Colin could see that from the pictures that he'd taken. He could see it in Harry's eyes, how nice he was. He could see how friendly he was. And now Harry was his new friend.

And then a voice startled him from his reverie, a voice that he'd never heard before. Or at least not directed towards him.

"Can I see, as well?"

Colin turned his head in the direction of the voice. It was a kind voice, a sweet voice, and a feminine voice. Maybe that was what piqued his interest so much.

The girl emerged, and the first thing that he noticed was not her mass of red hair, but her freckles. Colin had freckles, too, as did many, but it made him smile to see them on her face.

"'Course you can," Colin announced, his smile widening. He held out one of the pictures and she handled it gently, tenderly, just like he'd always done. It made him blink, maybe even double-take, to see how carefully she touched the picture, apparently not wanting to tarnish Harry's face.

"It's very nice." She looked up, her face slightly flushed.

"I'm Colin. Colin Creevey."

Instead of shaking her hand, Colin held out another picture.

"Ginny Weasley," she answered, her voice, as sweet as honeysuckle, now laced with a welcome.

Colin's eyes widened with an excited recognition. "_Weasley_?" he asked. "Like _Ron_ Weasley?"

"...Yes," Ginny answered, a bit belatedly, with her eyes still locked on the latest picture.

"Do you know Harry Potter? What is he—"

"I _don't_ know him." Yet again, she looked up. Her voice had abandoned its hard tone when she continued, "My brother knows him, but I don't know him. Not well, anyways. I've seen him and he talked to me but... I doubt he'd _like_ me."

Colin tilted his head. He offered her another picture as he considered his next move, but she had already begun to give the other ones back.

"I'm getting sleepy," Ginny said, raising a hand and running it through her hair. "Thank you, though."

She turned and began to leave. For a moment, Colin wondered if it was something that he'd done. He wondered if he should leave her alone. But then he felt something churn within him, an overwhelming frisson of emotions. Confusion, understanding, and a need for action.

He reached out his hand, and as it brushed hers, he felt something connect in him. He felt his heart beat faster as her warmth reverberated against his palm. And he grabbed her hand before she could get away, and opened his mouth to say:

"Let me take a picture of you."

Ginny turned her head, and Colin knew that it was the perfect moment. Without hesitation, without waiting for her answer, he grabbed his camera and...

_Flash!_

"Why did you do that?"

But Colin wasn't listening. He was staring at the picture as it slid from the slot and, slowly but surely, lightened. The first thing that he saw was her freckles. And then her eyes. Her beautiful eyes, the color of chocolate and caramel.

He knew now. Ginny's heart was warm, as warm as Harry's was. Maybe even warmer. No, _definitely_ warmer. Yet maybe that was just what he _wanted_ to see.

"Because you're nice, just like Harry is." Colin said the words slowly, almost transfixed. "He'll like you. I know he will."

* * *

Years and months later, Colin took out the photo in his pocket and stared at it, the last trace of the camera that he used to love more than anything.

He wasn't thinking of the camera now. He was thinking of Ginny, his picture girl.

Flame-colored hair in movement, creating beautiful, gentle arcs that grabbed passionately at her face. Delicate skin dabbed with perfect freckles, much like the dots that formed on an old photo. Plump, pink lips, parted as she formed words. Warm, brown eyes that showed a big heart and courage, as much courage as a lioness queen.

He wanted to be her king. He wanted to touch her and feel her, but feel more than just her hand. He wanted to kiss her plump lips. He wanted to hear her voice.

But Harry was her king.

Colin's wanted nothing more than to take back his words of encouragement.

_Like _that_ would change anything._

Lately, it _was_ something that he wanted to change, just to see if it helped. He was desperate to change it.

He was desperate to at least kiss her lips before it was too late.

And he died the next day.

**FIN.**


End file.
